


Invincible

by TrueIllusion



Series: Changed [3]
Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Disability, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, POV Michael Novotny, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-06
Updated: 2018-08-06
Packaged: 2019-06-22 21:16:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15590874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TrueIllusion/pseuds/TrueIllusion
Summary: Michael would never forget the day everything changed for his best friend. It was a Wednesday. He’d been having an average day at the comic book store, and some of the kids who regularly came in after school to read but never buy anything were starting to trickle in. He didn’t mind them as much as some other business owners might; he had once been one of them. He got it.Then around 3:30 p.m., his cell phone rang, which seemed strange.





	Invincible

_“You’ll always be young, and you’ll always be beautiful. You’re Brian Kinney for fuck’s sake!”_

*****

Michael would never forget the day everything changed for his best friend. It was a Wednesday. He’d been having an average day at the comic book store, and some of the kids who regularly came in after school to read but never buy anything were starting to trickle in. He didn’t mind them as much as some other business owners might; he had once been one of them. He got it.

Then around 3:30 p.m., his cell phone rang, which seemed strange. All of his friends and family knew exactly where he was from 10 a.m. to 6 p.m., Tuesday through Saturday, so they usually called the store phone. He pulled it out of his pocket and glanced at the caller ID, but he didn’t recognize the number and almost let it ring out without answering. Curiosity about who it was and what they wanted got the best of him, though, and he picked it up on what would probably have been the last ring.

“Hello?”

“Hello, is this Michael Novotny?” a female voice asked.

“Yes it is. Who is this?”

“I’m calling from the emergency department at Allegheny General Hospital. We have a patient who was just brought in who has you listed as his emergency contact in his phone.”

Now, there were a few people this call could have been about. His mother was out since the person at the hospital had already said “he.” Michael’s heart rate accelerated as he wondered if this call was about Ben or Hunter. He never expected it to be about Brian.

“Wh-who is it?” Michael stuttered, wanting to know but at the same time really, really not wanting to know, and hoping maybe this phone call was just part of some weird dream. Or a nightmare.

“Brian Kinney. He’s been in an accident. It’s fairly serious. If you could come down as soon as possible, we’d like to get some information from you.”

From the moment she’d uttered Brian’s name, Michael had felt like his ears were ringing and the world was spinning -- the same had happened to him when he’d gotten a call that Ben had collapsed in the middle of class with pancreatitis a few years back. Michael didn’t even know he was Brian’s emergency contact, but he guessed it made sense, given that Justin was an entire state away. And Brian’s blood family probably wouldn’t have given a shit. So that left Michael.

He hurriedly told the schoolkids he was sorry but they’d have to leave, and flipped the “open” sign to “closed” as he locked the door and rushed to the hospital. He didn’t even remember the drive there, but he was sure that he was going well over the posted speed limit.

For whatever reason, as Michael moved through the blur of the next few hours, flitting from moment to moment just trying to make sense out of what was going on, the thought never entered his mind to call Justin and let him know what was going on. Now, looking back, he guessed that on some subconscious level he didn’t want to worry Justin until he knew more about Brian’s injuries and his prognosis. He had only called Ben, who came and joined him in the waiting room about 30 minutes after Michael arrived, just as Michael was giving a small stack of paperwork to one of the administrative assistants.

“Any updates?” Ben asked as they sat down in the corner.

“No. All I know is that he wrapped the Corvette around a tree somewhere between West Virginia and here, and they brought him in by helicopter. They wouldn’t let me see him. He’s in surgery now.”

“Jesus. It must have been really bad.”

“I know.” Michael took a deep breath, trying to keep it together because he knew this was one of the times when he needed to be strong for Brian, even if Brian wasn’t in front of him right at this moment. Ben pulled him into a hug and rubbed his back.

“I’m sure they’re doing everything they can,” Ben said.

When Ben said that, it suddenly hit Michael that everything they could do might not be enough. He could lose his best friend, right here, right now.

They’d been like brothers since they were in junior high -- sharing everything with each other, teasing each other, spending almost every waking moment together, even fighting like brothers do. Through the years, though, as they’d grown up and matured and their lives and circumstances had changed, they’d realized that you don’t always have to see eye-to-eye with someone to love them anyway.

Michael still loved Brian, even if now it wasn’t the same feeling that it had been for so much of their lives. He used to want to be with Brian in a much deeper way than Brian had ever wanted to be with him. But meeting Ben had changed Michael’s life, and for that he was thankful. However, they wouldn’t be together if it hadn’t been for Brian, at least indirectly -- because without Brian buying him the Captain Astro comic that Michael had sold to buy the store, he and Ben would never have met. So he was thankful for Brian as well. And how the stars had aligned to bring the right person into his life at the right time. He’d always loved Brian, and always would, but it was different from the love he had for Ben. Besides, Brian had Justin.

Tears stung in Michael’s eyes and a few of them fell as Ben held him. Michael pulled away and swiped at his cheeks with the backs of his hands and took a deep breath. “No, no. I can’t do that,” he said. “I’ve got to be the strong one right now. That’s how this works. It’s our thing.”

“Michael, it’s okay to cry,” Ben said as he took Michael’s hand. “You love him. He’s hurt. You’re scared. And that’s okay. You don’t have to pretend to be anything else.”

Ben wrapped his arms around Michael again, and Michael sagged into his husband’s embrace, his breath hitching with quiet sobs.

For the next two hours, Michael alternated between sitting and pacing as they waited for an update and prayed it would be a good one.

Finally, a dark-haired man in scrubs who looked to be in his mid-40s walked up to them and asked if they were here for Brian Kinney. Michael nodded, and the man shook his hand and introduced himself as Dr. Kline, a neurologist.

Immediately, Michael’s mind went right back to when Justin was bashed, and the days he’d spent sitting in this very room with Brian, waiting to hear if Justin was going to live or die. A neurologist was coming to talk to him about Brian? Shit. He barely managed to bring his attention back and stand up when the doctor cleared his throat and started to speak.

“Mr. Kinney sustained a spinal cord injury in the accident, due to fractured vertebrae at T12 and L1. It appears to be a complete injury, but we won’t know that for sure until he’s awake and his body has had some time to resolve the swelling in the area. In short, he’s paralyzed from the waist down. It’s likely permanent. I’ve been working in the OR with Dr. Martinez, an orthopedic surgeon, to stabilize his spine. She’s finishing up now. We don’t anticipate any further complications as of right now. It is a long road to recovery, though.”

Michael felt like someone could have knocked him over with a feather. The doctor’s voice seemed to be echoing in his head, sounding very far away. He was relieved that Ben was there to keep a level head, as always, because right now Michael wasn’t sure he could get any words out. He was barely comprehending what was being said.

“Does he have any other injuries?” Ben asked.

“Not as far as we can tell, just some minor cuts and scrapes and a lot of bruising. He’s very lucky. It could have been much worse.”

“When can we see him?” Michael finally found some words.

“I’d anticipate we’ll probably have him in a room in the ICU within the hour. We’ll keep him there overnight, probably until sometime tomorrow so we can monitor him more closely. I’ll have someone come and get you when he’s settled.”

“Thank you doctor,” Ben said as he shook the doctor’s hand again before the man turned to go.

Michael sank back into his chair and put his head in his hands.

Ben put his arm around Michael’s shoulders reassuringly. “He’s alive,” Ben said simply. “We know he’s alive. Let’s be grateful for that.” Zen Ben.

During the next hour, Ben tried to force Michael to eat some peanut butter crackers and drink some water, but Michael didn’t feel like he could stomach anything right now. He was still coming to terms with the idea that the man he’d patterned a comic-book superhero after, his best friend who had always seemed larger than life, strong, even invincible, was probably facing permanent, life-altering disability. Michael couldn’t wrap his head around it. It didn’t seem possible. This had to be a nightmare that Michael was going to awaken from soon. It just had to be.

After what felt like forever, a nurse finally came to lead Michael and Ben upstairs to the third floor, and the room where Brian lay flat on his back in the bed, with all sorts of wires connected to him, tied to monitors that were constantly beeping and flashing and changing, and two IVs stood dripping slowly into the back of Brian’s hand. He was breathing on his own, which was a relief. Michael could see that most of the left side of Brian’s face was starting to darken into a bruise, and there were a few small cuts that had been stitched and bandaged on his face as well. Michael just hoped they wouldn’t leave scars; he knew Brian wouldn’t handle that very well.

Hell, how would he handle any of this? Michael had an inkling that it probably wouldn’t be good.

Ben’s hand stayed on Michael’s shoulder as they moved into the room.

“He’s still under sedation right now and we’ll be keeping him on some very powerful pain medication for the next several days, so he’ll probably be a little groggy when he wakes up,” the nurse explained as she studied one of the monitors and laid the call button at the head of the bed. “If he needs anything when he wakes up, just press this button to call us, okay?”

“Thank you,” Ben said, continuing to be Michael’s proxy, as the nurse turned and left them alone with Brian. Michael was really, really glad Ben was here.

They’d been sitting and talking quietly in the two chairs under the window in Brian’s ICU room for about half an hour when Brian suddenly gasped and started trying unsuccessfully to sit up in the bed, a panicked expression on his face.

Ben practically jumped out of the chair and immediately put his hands gently-but-firmly on Brian’s shoulders to keep him still, while Michael came around to the other side of the bed to talk to his friend in the most soothing voice he could manage at the moment, which probably wasn’t very soothing at all.

“Hey, hey...it’s me...shh...you’re okay...don’t try to sit up, okay? Just relax.” Michael was running his hand through Brian’s hair, brushing it off his forehead as if he was a feverish child. Michael didn’t know why he was doing that; it just seemed like the right thing to do right now.

Brian squeezed his eyes shut and was breathing hard, but he did appear to be calming down a bit, so Ben relaxed his grip.

“What’s wrong with...my legs?” Brian managed to choke out between heavy breaths.

Michael and Ben exchanged a look, and again Ben took the lead.

“What are you feeling, Brian?”

“Are they still fucking there?” Michael almost laughed out loud at that, regardless of how inappropriate it would have been at that moment. Only Brian Kinney would manage to be not only fairly lucid, but cursing, just after surgery.

“Yes, they’re there.” Ben was still the picture of calm, cool, and collected, answering the question matter-of-factly as if Brian had asked about the weather. “Are you in pain?”

Brian nodded slightly and squeezed his eyes shut tighter.

“Okay, I’m going to call the nurse.” Ben pushed the call button while Michael wondered who was going to have to explain this whole situation to Brian. He hoped it wasn’t going to be him. “Just breathe, okay?” Ben said.

“Okay,” Brian exhaled, and Michael could tell he was battling to make it slower than it ended up being. “What the fuck happened?”

Neither of them had time to answer before a nurse walked briskly into the room and approached the bed.

“Good to see you’re awake, Mr. Kinney,” she said brightly, calmly, even though the current atmosphere in the room was anything but calm.

“My fucking back...is fucking...killing me,” Brian growled between breaths that were still too rapid, not waiting for her to ask what he needed.

“Sorry about that. That’s just Brian,” Michael muttered at the nurse, apologizing on Brian’s behalf if she was offended by his blunt language.

She seemed unfazed, though, and continued right on: “Can you tell me on a scale of 1 to 10 how severe it is? One being slight and 10 being the worst pain ever?”

“Nine,” Brian choked out, opening his eyes just long enough for Michael to see that they were wet with tears. It hurt Michael, too, seeing his best friend in so much pain. Michael took Brian’s hand and gripped it tightly, wishing there was more he could do.

“Okay, Mr. Kinney, I’m going to increase the dosage of your pain medication, and I’m going to give you a sedative to help you relax.” She was already manipulating the control panel on the IV as she spoke, her tranquil, even tone the exact opposite of Brian’s urgent, unsteady one. “Just rest; I’ll be right back.”

Brian didn’t ask about what had happened again, and it wasn’t long before the nurse returned with a syringe full of liquid that knocked Brian out within a couple of minutes.

“So are we supposed to be the ones to tell him?” Michael asked Ben, his voice barely audible. “Because I don’t think I can do that.”

It turned out that Dr. Kline was who got the honors of telling Brian his fate the next morning, when his pain was a little better managed and he seemed more aware.

But the entire time the doctor was talking to him, Brian had been staring straight up at the ceiling, his eyes and expression totally blank. He didn’t say a word. His only movement was blinking occasionally. Michael wasn’t even sure his friend was listening, to be honest. He looked almost catatonic.

Dr. Kline gave Brian the same information he’d given Michael and Ben in the waiting room the day before, and told him that they’d fused together six of his vertebrae to stabilize his spine. They’d talk more about what came next in the coming days, but for right now, Brian’s main job was just to rest. Michael already knew that wasn’t something Brian Kinney did very well.

“I know this is all very difficult to hear,” Dr. Kline continued. “But at this injury level, you’ll still be able to be functionally independent. I want you to know that. I have a lot of paraplegic patients who are doing great things with their lives.”

Brian still didn’t respond.

After the doctor left, Michael leaned forward in his chair and put his hand over Brian’s.

“Did you hear that? He said you’ll still be independent.” Michael felt extremely awkward saying that to his best friend after he’d just gotten what was likely the worst news of his life, but they were the only encouraging words Michael could muster at the time, even if they didn’t feel very encouraging.

“I was listening,” Brian said softly, his voice flat.

“Are you okay?”

“I don’t know.” Brian paused and inhaled deeply. “No. Probably not.”

Brian spent most of the rest of his second day in the hospital asleep, or at least pretending to be. Michael could tell the difference, but he wasn’t going to hassle Brian about it. He knew his friend probably just wanted to shut out the world right now, in true Brian Kinney fashion. So Michael was just going to be here. He’d decided to close the shop for a few days so he could do just that.

The only time when Brian was forced to acknowledge he was awake was every couple of hours when a nurse would come in to help him turn onto one side or the other, propping his body up with pillows. She said it was to prevent bedsores, since Brian was essentially bedridden at this point. Far from the man Michael had once thought seemed invincible.

Michael could tell by the way Brian’s breathing changed how much pain he was in every time they came in to move him, but neither of them mentioned it. It was as if neither of them wanted to admit that this was reality.

At one point just after a nurse left the room, Michael had asked Brian if he wanted him to call Justin in New York and let him know what had happened. Brian had refused.

“No,” he’d said. “I don’t want him worrying about me.”

Michael had tried to argue, but Brian closed his eyes and didn’t respond, effectively shutting Michael down. Briefly, he’d considered doing it anyway, but going against his best friend’s wishes wasn’t exactly Michael’s thing, and he wasn’t going to start doing it now. Not when Brian was lying in a hospital bed, in pain, with so many unanswered questions hanging between them about what would happen next and how things would be from now on. Maybe Brian just needed some time to digest things on his own, before Justin entered the picture. They moved Brian to a regular room around dinnertime, and Michael moved with him. They still didn’t speak, about Justin or anything else.

When 10 p.m. came around, Michael knew he needed to go home and get some sleep, so he started packing up the catalogs and order forms he’d brought with him so he could at least do some work while he sat in Brian’s hospital room. As he slid the last book into the bag, he looked up and was surprised to see Brian’s hazel eyes staring back at him. He’d been lying on his side, facing Michael, for the last hour, but this was the first time he’d opened his eyes and looked at him.

“Hey,” Michael said, taking a step forward to get closer to the bed. He gently laid his hand on Brian’s forearm that was resting on the pillow in front of his torso. “I’m going to go home and get some sleep...it’s late. I’ll be back in the morning.”

Brian nodded almost imperceptibly and swallowed.

“Will you be okay?” Michael asked, his voice barely above a whisper. “I can stay if you want me to.”

“No,” Brian spoke for the first time since he had refused to let Michael call Justin. “Go home, Mikey. I’ll be alright.”

Michael wasn’t sure if Brian was trying to convince him, or himself.

Day three wasn’t much different from day two, except Brian did a little less pretending to be asleep and more staring at the ceiling, the wall, and out the window. He still didn’t seem to want to talk, except to tell Michael he didn’t want any other visitors, and he still didn’t want Michael to call Justin, so Michael continued working through his stack of catalogs, trying to decide what new comics to order for the store. The nurses continued rotating Brian periodically, as if he were a rotisserie chicken. At one point, they changed the bandage on the surgical incision on Brian’s back, which made Michael cringe when he saw the size of it. No wonder it was painful. He held Brian’s hand while they taped a new one down, squeezing it when he could tell his friend was struggling not to cry, trying to keep up the mask of the invincible Brian Kinney who didn’t feel pain. Who didn’t feel feelings at all.

On day four, Brian broke the silence.

“I want to call Justin,” he said.

Okay, Michael thought to himself, that’s good. Maybe he just wants to tell Justin himself.

Michael retrieved Brian’s cell phone from where it sat on a table, alongside the other items that had been removed from his pockets when he’d been admitted to the hospital -- his wallet, a pair of sunglasses, a nice pen, and a set of keys. Michael handed Brian the phone, watched him dial, and then sat and listened to Brian’s side of the conversation as he and Justin basically shot the shit, like Brian was sitting on the sofa at the loft having a beer and not lying in a hospital bed with a broken back. Now that Brian was saying more than a few words at a time, Michael could hear that he was slurring his words a little, sounding slightly drunk under the influence of the pain medication. Michael wondered if Justin would notice that. He’d probably just think Brian was actually drunk, even if it was the middle of the afternoon. After all, that hadn’t exactly been too uncommon in the months since Justin had moved to New York. But Michael didn’t know if Justin was aware of that or not.

Brian talked to Justin about Gus and the family and work and art, just like everything was totally normal. Move along, nothing to see here. He said goodbye and hung up without ever bringing up the fact that he’d been in an accident and his life was going to be changed forever.

Michael was staring at Brian in disbelief and confusion as his friend hung up the phone and handed it to him.

“What?” Brian said.

“You didn’t tell him.” Michael could hear the edge creeping into his own voice.

“Why should I? He’s in New York. He can’t do anything about it,” Brian said as he pulled a pillow out from behind him and let himself roll slowly onto his back, wincing a little as he moved.

“He’s your partner; he deserves to know.” God, if that phrase didn’t sound familiar. Too familiar. Michael had hoped he wouldn’t ever have to say it again, once Brian had finally acknowledged his feelings for Justin. But, here they were.

“Not anymore.” Brian blinked slowly as he turned his head slightly to look at Michael.

“You almost got married, for Christ’s sake. I’d say at the very least you’re still good friends. He deserves to know.”

“I don’t want him worrying about me,” Brian repeated what he’d said to Michael each time he had offered to call Justin.

“Do you have any idea how pissed he’s going to be at you when he finds out? And he’s going to. You can’t just keep this a secret forever. His family still lives in Pittsburgh. He’s still a part of our little family. He’ll be back for visits. You’re going to run into him eventually. Do you really want to have to try to explain yourself then?”

“I don’t want to talk about it, Mikey,” Brian said wearily as he closed his eyes. “I’m tired.”

The next day, Brian’s demeanor changed considerably, and what had seemed to be a subtle, silent denial over the past few days morphed into unequivocal anger. Anger at Michael, anger at the nurses, at the doctors, at being stuck in bed, at having to have people help him take care of his basic needs, just anger at the whole situation. Michael didn’t really blame him; if their roles were reversed, he was pretty sure he’d be angry too. But this wasn’t the same sort of anger that had inspired Michael and Justin to name their superhero Rage -- explosive, shouting, throwing things sort of anger. This was quiet, cutting, smoldering -- a slow burn. And it was palpable.

Michael had tried to keep his mother at bay, since Brian had told him he didn’t want any other visitors, but he knew that he would only be able to keep her away for a few days before she refused to listen. Day five was the day she came. It probably would have been better for her to come when Ignore-the-Problem Brian was around, instead of this seething version, but maybe Angry Brian could use some tough love from Debbie Novotny. Regardless, Michael knew that was exactly what Brian was about to get.

His mother had breezed into the room with two boxes from the diner -- no doubt containing a turkey sandwich, no mayo, and a lemon bar -- and deposited them on the bedside table before making her way to the bed and leaning down to deposit a kiss on Brian’s cheek. She was quick about it, which meant he didn’t manage to turn away in time.

“Hi, sweetheart, how are you feeling?” she said as she brushed a stray lock of hair from Brian’s forehead. Michael now knew where he’d learned that move. Brian moved away from her touch.

“Like shit. Don’t call me that. I’m not a kid. What the fuck are you doing here anyway?” Brian settled his penetrating gaze on Michael. “I said I didn’t want any more visitors.”

“You know I can’t stop her,” Michael said, putting his hands up in mock surrender.

“That’s right,” Debbie said as she used her hand to pull Brian’s chin around to face her again, more gently than she usually did. “I do what I want. Not what you tell me. And you know better than to try to keep me away when you’re lying in a goddamn hospital bed. I practically raised you, you little shit.”

Brian didn’t say anything. He didn’t turn his head away again, but he looked straight past Debbie and seemed to be refusing to look her in the eye.

“I said I didn’t want any more visitors,” he repeated, keeping his tone even, but clearly perturbed.

“Well, you’d better get used to me, because I’m not going anywhere, kiddo,” Debbie said as she took a seat in a chair next to Michael. She gestured toward the food she’d brought. “Thought you’d like something other than hospital food.”

Michael braced himself for the battle of wills that he was sure was about to take place. His mother and Brian were both equally stubborn and hard-headed, but Michael had witnessed enough of these battles to know that his mother usually won. Sometimes it seemed like Brian was as much her son as Michael was, and she was always offering her motherly insight to Brian, in her own no-nonsense way, of course, whether he wanted it or not. And with Brian in the mood he was currently in, there was no telling how this was going to go.

They all three sat in silence for some time, before Debbie spoke up.

“I know you’re angry, Brian. You’re thinking this isn’t fair. Wondering why this happened to you. You want to scream and cry, but you never do those things because they’d mean showing other people that you have feelings. You’re scared. And you’re taking it out on everyone else because you’re trying to hide the fact that you’re afraid. I know you too well to think that this silent treatment you’re giving us is anything but that.”

“You don’t know shit.”

“You can be as cruel to me as you want, honey, that’s fine...doesn’t hurt my feelings any. But we both know you wouldn’t have said that if you didn’t know I was right.”

Brian didn’t have a response for that. Michael was a little surprised that his friend wasn’t fighting back.

“I know you put up with a lot of shit when you were a kid, a lot of shit that no kid should ever have had to deal with. And that’s why I’ve treated you as if you were my own for the past 20-some-odd years. I love you, kid. And I know you love me too, even if you’d never say it. I know how much baggage that word...that feeling...has for you. How much pain. But we all love you, and we all want to be here for you. You need to let us.”

Brian looked like he’d been deflated. When he spoke, his tone had changed from bitter to uncomfortable, on the edge of ashamed, and his voice was quiet. “I don’t want anyone to see me like this.”

“Like what? Like someone who needs a little help for a while? We all do, sometimes. And guess what? Even Brian Kinney isn’t invincible.”

Brian snorted and turned his head to the left, so that he was facing away from them, and Michael knew it was Brian’s way of shutting down the conversation. But he didn’t call him out on it.

“Thanks for the food,” he heard Brian say in a hushed tone. The sudden politeness was a clear departure from the irritation he’d displayed all day thus far, and it reminded Michael of a little boy trying to be get back on his parent’s good side after misbehaving. In a way, Michael guessed it was. “I’m not very hungry right now. I want to sleep for a while.”

So Brian feigned sleep, his face still turned away, while Debbie and Michael talked softly in the chairs by the window, but Michael could tell from his friend’s breathing that he wasn’t asleep -- he was crying. He was sure that his mother had noticed it as well. They’d both seen it before, but not in a very long time. His mother probably not since they he and Brian were kids. And just as Michael and Debbie had learned to do back then, they resisted the urge to comfort him, instead letting him have his privacy. They both knew that was probably the only way he’d ever let it out.

The next few days were relatively uneventful. The bruises on Brian’s face and body were lightening, and the stitches were removed from the small cuts on his face. Dr. Kline and Dr. Martinez were both pleased with Brian’s recovery so far, and they started talking more about next steps -- namely, getting Brian into an inpatient rehab facility within the next week. They fitted Brian for a custom-molded brace that was designed to protect and support his back as it healed, and that meant he could start sitting up whenever he wanted. Brian bitched about how uncomfortable it was, but Michael could tell he was relieved to not have to be lying down all the time, except for the slight incline of the bed he’d been allowed to have at mealtimes. Besides, bitching Brian was a lot more like normal Brian, and that was a good sign too.

And then came the visit from Joan Kinney. It was Wednesday afternoon, and Ben was sitting with Michael in Brian’s room when she strode in, all on her moral high horse. She railed at Brian about how he’d deserved this -- how he’d basically asked for it with his sinful behavior all of these years. He’d brought it on himself. Michael wasn’t even sure how she’d learned Brian was here or what had happened, but he wondered if it had anything to do with his mother, just like it had when Brian had cancer. Then again, Brian was a prominent Pittsburgh business owner now, so it was possible that the news was making its way through the grapevine. Either way, she was here now, and she was raking Brian over the coals while he sat and stared at her. She never gave him an opportunity to get a word in edgewise -- she just kept going on and on about God and Leviticus and sodomy and sin and punishment and how Brian could change. And Brian sat there and took it. But Michael could see the fury starting to smolder in his friend. The slow burn.

Michael wanted nothing more than to get up and punch her lights out on his best friend’s behalf, but Ben was holding him down. When she strode out of the room as quickly and haughtily as she’d come in, Michael wanted to follow her and give her a piece of his mind, or his fist, but Ben grabbed his hand and pulled him back down.

So he turned his attention back to his best friend, whose mother had just proven yet again how unworthy she was of the word.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, Michael. Why wouldn’t I be?” Brian spat the words out like they tasted sour. The question was simple, but Michael knew the answer was complicated. He could see the fury giving way to hurt in Brian’s eyes as he looked away -- the same hurt Michael had seen over and over again when they were kids. It was clear that on some level, Brian still craved his mother’s affection, even after all these years. Even if he’d never admit it. He wanted her to love him in the way a mother should love her son. Unconditionally.

Later that evening, Brian called Justin again. And they talked about mundane bullshit, again. And again, Brian never mentioned what was happening.

When Michael confronted him about it, Brian said simply: “I needed to feel like everything was okay. Like I’m still the same person.”

Fuck if Michael couldn’t argue with that logic -- that need -- even if he did really wish Brian would come clean with Justin, so Justin could help him get through this.

Brian spent four weeks in rehab after leaving the hospital, learning new ways to do a lot of things that most people take for granted. Michael still remembered the first time he walked into his friend’s room and saw him sitting in a wheelchair. He was in front of a small desk, doing something on his laptop. Probably working even though Ted and Cynthia had told him not to worry about Kinnetik, to focus on himself for a little while. It was different from when he’d been in the hospital, lying in bed, or from when they’d discharged him with the normal chariot ride out the door that everyone who has ever been discharged from a hospital has gotten. This was the new normal. Michael still wasn’t sure he was going to be able to reconcile the Brian he’d known for the last 21 years with this one. But he knew he had to try.

“Hey Mikey,” Brian had said, squirming a little like he was uncomfortable. Michael wondered if it was physical or mental. Could be either. Or both. He had on jeans and a t-shirt and was barefoot -- his usual uniform any time he wasn’t at work or going out. A little piece of normal in a situation that felt so strange, so surreal.

“Hey yourself...I see you’re up and around already.” Michael tried to act nonchalant.

Brian shrugged. “Better get used to it, I guess. It’s weird. But it’s better than being stuck in bed.”

Michael nodded. “I’m sure.” He held out the bag he’d been holding. “Ma sent some food. I know, big surprise. I’m pretty sure that’s her cure for everything.”

Brian laughed and smiled a little, turning back to his laptop. Michael had missed that laugh...that smile. “Yeah, I don’t think a lemon bar is fixing this anytime soon. But I commend her efforts. Tell her I said thanks.”

Michael stood by and watched as Brian plowed through the next four weeks of rehab with dogged determination. That was definitely the Brian he’d known since junior high -- anything he did, he was going to do it right. Brian was always all-in, and failure was not an option. He finished everything he started. Of course, that stubborn streak also meant that Angry Brian would come to the surface when things didn’t quite go as planned -- when something was more difficult than Brian had anticipated or felt it should be.

Watching his best friend struggle with simple things was the hardest part of this for Michael. He wanted so badly to help, but every time he tried, Brian would push him away -- literally and figuratively. Michael wanted nothing more than to fix this, but he knew he couldn’t. No one could.

Michael felt lost much of the time, not knowing what to do to help without making Brian mad, so he was thankful when his friend had assigned him a job: taking charge of packing up the loft apartment that had been Brian’s home for the last 10 years, in preparation for a move to a wheelchair accessible apartment he’d found in the suburbs. At the same time, it made Michael incredibly sad to see his best friend being forced to leave behind a significant part of himself. A part of himself that he’d taken such pride in.

But they’d packed up Brian’s things, and Michael had sat with Brian while he met with a Realtor in the empty dining room of the rehab facility, signing papers. Brian had been adamant that Jennifer Taylor wasn’t going to be the one listing the loft for sale this time. He still hadn’t told Justin about any of this. And Michael was still a little peeved at Brian for shutting Justin out. Michael had tried to bring it up again, offered to be the one to give Justin the full picture of what was happening in Brian’s life. But Brian was still refusing, and now he was threatening to not see Michael anymore if he didn’t stop harping on it. So Michael figured he’d better let it go for the time being, even if it was damn near impossible to do so.

The whole gang had been there the day they moved Brian into his new apartment in the suburbs -- God, those words felt so strange moving through Michael’s head. But this was Brian’s new life, and it was going to be different. There was no getting around that.

They all spent the day moving furniture around and unpacking boxes, with a noticeable tension present as they all tried to navigate the murky waters of helping-without-being-too-helpful, because no one wanted to send Brian into a rage that would have him booting them all out of the apartment and insisting upon doing all of this himself. The harsh truth was that he wasn’t physically capable of doing it all himself, but of course Brian would never admit that. Hell, it was hard for Michael to admit it too.

While Brian had spent the last month learning how to take care of himself, Michael felt like he himself had spent the last month learning who his best friend was now. Maybe who he’d be from here on out. The pages of the Kinney Operating Manual had been burned into Michael’s brain for so many years, unchanged, save for the few times when Justin had managed to break through Brian’s wall and force him to show a new side of himself. Now there were whole new chapters, revisions, rewrites. And Michael was still struggling to figure out where to paste in the new pages.

Over the previous week or so, Michael had noticed that Angry Brian was starting to give way to a new version of his best friend -- this one a bit more quiet, and kind of down. Silently reflective. A little depressed. Reluctant to talk about it.

So Michael wasn’t surprised when he walked into the bedroom as the others were finishing unpacking boxes in Brian’s new kitchen, and found his friend sitting in front of the patio door, looking outside. Michael approached his friend from behind and laid his hands on Brian’s shoulders, startling him out of his reverie.

“Sorry,” Michael said. “I thought you heard me come in. You alright?” That question had always been a loaded one when it came to Brian Kinney. Michael didn’t know if now would be one of the times when Brian would push him away and shut him out, or if he’d actually let Michael into his thoughts this time, but Michael was willing to take the gamble.

“Yeah. Just thinking.”

Michael waited for Brian to continue, hoping that he would. The silence between them stretched to nearly a minute before he did.

“It’s weird, you know? Like I’m being thrown back into my life. Like I’ve had this pause, this break in the action, and now it’s time to get back. And I should be happy about that, getting back to normal. But it doesn’t feel normal at all. But what is normal? I feel like I’m different now.”

“I don’t think anyone expects you to be exactly the same, Brian. You’ve been to hell and back. That changes a person.”

Brian shrugged. “I guess so.”

But even though on the surface Brian was different, and a little bit underneath, at his core he was still the same person Michael had known for more than two decades. And Michael was sure that a lesser man would have come through this experience much differently than Brian had. He was still the iron-willed, incredibly strong, seemingly invincible person that Michael had always felt lucky to know.

They fell back into their comfortable, familiar friendship as their lives both returned to normal -- or as normal as they could be at that point. Brian went back to work, and Ted said he was still the same as he ever was -- yelling at interns, ordering people around, charming clients, and generally being the adept businessman that he always had been. Michael was back to spending 8 hours a day, five days a week at the comic book store, and the temporary employee he’d hired to help fill in the gaps for the past month and a half was gone.

In spite of all of this normalcy, Michael still felt like something was off with Brian. He felt like he was the only one noticing it -- and he probably was, since the only person who knew Brian better than Michael was Justin, who still didn’t freaking know. Michael had noticed the internal struggle that Brian had anytime he was out in public. The way his eyes would darken when he found he could no longer go somewhere that he’d been going for years, because they didn’t have an accessible entrance. The way he’d bristle when people they’d known for years would approach him and ask him how he was doing.

They’d been sitting together at the diner having breakfast before work, business-as-usual, when Brian had suddenly said, “They feel sorry for me.”

“Who?” Michael was confused, particularly since Brian hadn’t interacted with anyone except him and Debbie since he’d come into the diner fifteen minutes prior.

“They look down on me,” Brian continued. “They’re all judging me. All the time. And don’t try to tell me they’re not, because they are. I can see it in their eyes.”

As much as Michael didn’t want to admit it, he could see it too. And as he reflected on this, Michael realized that he also didn’t want to admit that he’d probably been treating Brian differently as well. He tried not to -- hell, he’d been trying not to since the beginning of this whole little adventure back in June -- but it was hard to watch your best friend’s entire life be turned upside down when there really wasn’t a damn thing you could do to make it any better. And it was even harder to know that he was keeping the entire thing a secret from the one person in the world who deserved most to know and be able to be there for him.

So Michael had been relieved when he’d found out that Justin would be coming home for Christmas. And as apprehensive as he’d been on behalf of his friend, who was going to have to face a very delicate, difficult situation head-on, he was thankful that all of this would finally be out in the open. He just had to hope that Justin would forgive Brian for lying to him for six months. That was what he’d been discussing with Ben in the diner on December 23rd when Justin had walked in.

Christmas came and went, Justin had forgiven Brian, and Michael could see his friend finally beginning to actually return to normal, instead of the shell of his former self that he’d been for the past six months. Two weeks after the holiday, he’d stopped by Kinnetik to see if he wanted to grab dinner somewhere, and found Brian’s office unoccupied. So he sought out Ted, to see if Brian had gone home early, and found out he’d flown to New York to see Justin. Alone.

As much as Michael wished he could have been there to support his friend, a part of him knew why Brian needed to do this by himself -- he needed to prove to himself and to the world at-large that he was still an adult who could manage himself. And Michael knew in that moment that he needed to realize that about his friend as well.

Michael walked out of Kinnetik that day smiling at the thought of two lovers reunited again -- his best friend and the boy he’d plucked from under a streetlight on Liberty Avenue six years ago. No, not a boy now, a young man. The young man who had fundamentally changed his best friend for the better. The young man who, he was sure, could take this new version of Brian Kinney and make him see that he still had all of his powers.

And that appeared to be exactly what had happened, Michael thought as he sat with Brian at the diner on a Monday afternoon, his best friend’s eyes looking brighter and clearer than they had since June. His smile met his eyes again.

“I guess I don’t have to ask if you had a good time in New York,” Michael laughed as he sipped his water.

“The best time. The absolute best.”

“Well, I’m glad. You deserve it.”

They ordered lunch and caught each other up on their weekends just as they’d done for years. It truly felt like old times. Like nothing had changed at all. Michael was grateful to see his friend finally starting to emerge fully from the protective shell he’d encased himself in six months before.

And then Brian dropped a bomb on Michael as he finished the last bite of his sandwich. He said it so casually, like it was nothing at all -- just a mildly interesting tidbit of news.

“I’m thinking of moving to New York.”


End file.
